Hell Girl
by Ava Carmen
Summary: About to begin her sophomore year of high school, Helga remains cynical as ever. She struggles to come to terms with her insecurities and her tumultuous relationship with Arnold.


_Dear Arnold,... My Dearest Arnold,... Hey Football-head,..._

I rapped my pen against my notebook impatiently. I was drawing a blank, which was unusual. Words always came so easily...

The candlelight flickered violently against my bare paper and illuminated numerous volumes of diaries on the selves surrounding me. They towered over me mockingly. I had filled several books this summer with sonnets of longing, soliloquies of heartache, haiku's of regret and even a few optimistic limericks, though they were few and far between. At one point around mid-summer I had even considered writing an epic, though it never panned out due to my increasing fear of becoming completely mad. These past few months in solitude had transformed me into a slave of my emotions, and writing had become my only outlet of expression. But today I could not write.

One glance at those pages allowed the reader to see past my protective and hostile veneer. It was all elaborate front I had concocted to conceal the true vulnerable depths of my tormented fifteen year old soul.

Suddenly I felt inspired again,

_From childhood's hour I have not been  
As others were; I have not seen  
As others saw; I could not bring  
My passions from a common spring.  
From the same source I have not taken  
My sorrow; I could not awaken  
My heart to joy at the same tone;  
And all I loved, I loved **alone** _

I stopped writing and starred down blankly at what I had written. The candlelight danced around the words. One in particular glared up at me: Alone.

I stood up abruptly and swung open my chamber door. Morning light slapped me in the face, and my fantasy world began to melt away.

I moaned, reading the time to be 9:45 am. It was the last Sunday in July, leaving just three weeks of summer vacation. I shut my closet door and tossed aside my notebook before meandering over to the bathroom. Maybe it was the summer heat that brought on these bouts of delirium...

I splashed cold on my face before daring to meet my reflection. Two large gray blue eyes stared back, accented by two dark rings underneath. I have no doubt my lack of sleep is to blame. That and my recent avoidance of daylight would explain the sallowness of my cheeks.

I ran an uneasy hand through my long hair. My roots were actually a nice shade of ash blonde. It suited me. The chunky streaks of platinum blonde did not. They were the unfortunate result of unsuccessful sisterly bonding.

"Criminy" I muttered angrily, scowling at the reflection I wished was not mine.

Perhaps my looks didn't warrant this level of scorn. Truth be told I've grown into my awkwardness somewhat. I even received moderate attention from the boys. But still there was something, a gray cloud in my sky, casting a shadow over my spirit without relent.

My wandering eye stopped at the photograph of my repulsively perfect and gorgeous older sister, taped to the corner of the mirror. It was just like Olga to plaster herself anywhere she could. She was my constant reminder of how inadequate and lesser my existence was in her presence.

I took a swig of mouthwash, swashing it noisily. I looked again at my reflection, made a face, and spit. Not in the sink though, but all over the mirror, all over Olga's revolting face. I howled with laughter. My thin lips cracked into a wide smile, overtaking my small face. Immature pranks like this were still able to put a smile on my face and in that I managed to find the silver lining.

Grinning ear to ear, I strutted back to my room. I found my favorite pair of jeans slung over my desk chair. They were the same straight leg jeans I had worn faithfully over the past few years. I pulled them on admiring how much the dark denim had faded. One large hole in the front revealed my knobby left knee.

I wasn't the typical girl when it came to personal style. It never appealed to me to own a vast wardrobe and waste time putting together new outfits. It's not that I'm ignorant of fashion or that I'm not vain in anyway, I just find comfort in routine. I liked the familiar, and so I wore the same style jeans almost everyday, paired with a shirt that was most likely pink. On good hair days, which I must emphasize are quite scarce, I wear it down. Every other day it was pigtails.

While the rest of the world is focused on the _new, _I cherish what I already know and love. Let me clarify that I also I mean this beyond the superficial level. My heart was given away long ago, and I have no desire to reclaim it. While at times I may grow weary and my knees may tremble due to the seemingly insurmountable conflicts my heart bestows upon my fragile soul. I stand by loyal and in truth quite proud that I have loved the same boy since I was four. I even have the pink bow I wore the day I met him, which I secretly wear quite often. Especially this summer, whilst my love was away, I found myself wearing it quite often. I guess you could also say I have trouble letting things go.

In my closet found my pink and white raglan tee and paired it with a well worn baseball cap. I sloppily tied my hair back in two low pigtails as I strolled over to my notebook. Picking it up, I reread what little I had managed this morning: an excerpt from Edgar Allen Poe's "From Childhood's Hour."

"Ha, just what Arnold wants to read, a recycled poem mirroring my misspent youth. Criminy!" I spat. "Is it so hard to write a normal letter?"

I ripped the page out and crumpled it up before tossing it into the waste bin.

"Maybe I just need a change of scenery."

I slammed my closet door shut.

"And some fresh air."

I glanced hopefully towards the window. Sunlight was pouring in and beckoning me to follow.

Finally reaching the park, I found a secluded bench near the lake. I flipped open my notebook and clicked my pen. All of a sudden, a cold chill of paranoia ran up my spine. I felt eyes watching me, peering over my shoulder. I whipped around like a mad woman, and to no surprise, there wasn't anyone creeping on me. In fact the only people in sight were a few kids playing ball to my far left and tourists strolling by the lake infrequently.

I took a deep breathe to steady myself but to no avail. My mood swings were in full force today. I felt a hot wave of anger overtake me. Why hadn't _Arnold_ written all summer? Was it so hard for him to take a few minutes of his precious time to think of me? After all wasn't he the one that would have all the amazing stories to share. He was the one having a grand summer adventure, while I was left behind in the city.

Then I remembered why he was probably avoiding the thought of me. A heavy weight dropped in the pit of my stomach. Embarrassment. Shame. Oh, it made me devastatingly nauseous.

I took another deep breathe to clear my mind, and then I finally began to write:

_Dear Arnold,_

_ How is everything? Sorry I haven't written all summer. It's not that I forgot about you, I've just been unsure if you'd want to hear from me. Anyway, I know you're probably preoccupied with your family, building orphanages in San Lorenzo, and putting all us normal, selfish people to shame._

_ This summer has been alright for me. Miriam finally enrolled in her 12 step program. I'm trying to be optimistic that this time everything will work out. Maybe she just needs us to believe in her... God, I'm starting to sound like you._

_ Big Bob has been, well, Big Bob, but the company's finally turned around! They just closed a huge deal with Samsung; I guess they'll be getting an exclusive line of smartphones. Speaking of phones, have you really been without service this whole summer? Talk about roughing it, I couldn't even imagine.. but I bet that hippie, nature loving part of you loved it, UGH!_

I paused for a moment. The tone was becoming too snarky...

_ I wish you had a phone, there have been so many times I wanted to talk to you._

I crossed out "wanted."

_ **Needed** to talk to you. Dammit I miss you, more than I'd like to admit. I know I was a real bitch to you before you left, and I still feel awful about it. My insecurities got the better of me; you know how I get like that at times. I was just scared of losing you. Of course all I accomplished was pushing you further away._

_ Sorry, I know it's not fair of me to dig up all this muck while you're off enjoying your summer with your family. It's just I can't stop thinking about you and how we left things. This isn't me groveling for forgiveness, I don't expect you to let me off easy. I just need to know that you care enough to try._

_ Anyway, I won't keep you any longer; those kids need you! I hope this letter finds you well. _

Quietly I read the letter back to myself. It was surprisingly sincere without being intimidating like most of my other letters. Of course this is in comparison to rants on my insomnia, volumes of poetry and old shrines. Still, it read well with its heartfelt moments and appropriately placed snide remarks. Finally, I would send him a letter, after almost three months of no contact. As I signed, I spoke aloud.

"_Love always, Hel_- AGHH!"

I tumbled off the bench and hit the ground hard. That was definitely going to leave a bruise. A baseball had come hurtling towards my face, missing me by inches.

"Sorry!" called a boy, running up to me. "Must be the wind!"

"More like your shitty aim," I sneered, throwing the ball far over the kid's head.

"Bitch!" he muttered, turning around to chase down his ball.

I stood up and brushed myself off. I sat back down on the bench to retrieve my letter, only there was no letter. An unnerving numbness spread inside me. I looked around frantically, underneath the bench, through my notebook, inside my bag- Then I spotted it. Soaring up and up, the wind was carrying my away my heartfelt confession.


End file.
